


L I(s)F(or the way you look at m)E

by putputpotato



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Author Projecting onto characters, Blasphemy, Boys Kissing, Crack, Dark Comedy, Depression, Eating Disorders, M/M, Making Out, Mental Health Issues, Mentioned Murder, Philosophy, Read the authors note please, Sex Shop, Suicidal Thoughts, This will either speak to people or offend them on a whole other level, Vandalism, controversial humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:08:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25095880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/putputpotato/pseuds/putputpotato
Summary: When Mark sees Donghyuck for the first time, he is covered in blood and singing Michael Buble's version of L.O.V.E. under his breath.When they meet, he manages to make Mark feel alive, all while very enthusiastically planning his own death.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 26
Kudos: 85





	L I(s)F(or the way you look at m)E

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so PLEASE
> 
> This is dark comedy. It takes dark themes like mental illness murder and projects it in an amusing, yet slightly disturbing way. If you get uncomfortable or offended by content like this, please skip this work as I would never want to harm anyone with my content <3 
> 
> There are no graphic scenes or triggering moments of brutality, just a lot of nonesense and philosophical shit I put in. 
> 
> Much love, thank you for being here <3
> 
> PS: Check out the lovely [Moodboard](https://www.pinterest.at/bexcamayormaynot/l-isfor-the-way-you-look-at-me/) by @bexca on Pinterest!

The repeating rattle of the washing machine in front of Mark is almost enough to put him into a trance. Apart from him, the laundry shop is completely empty. No wonder, really, it's almost two a.m. now and no sane person would go out to wash their laundry at this hour. But Mark never sleeps anyways, so why not use his time a little more efficient?

Different jeans and sweatshirts swirl in front of his eyes. He feels a headache coming. It's the same as always, he doesn't sleep – he gets a headache – he takes medication for his messed up brain – he gets more of a headache. The last time he went a day without that familiar thrumming in his skull is so far away, Mark isn't even sure it's real anymore. Everything seems more like a dream nowadays anyways; maybe that's why Mark has so much trouble falling asleep. Reality has slipped from his fingers and it seems like nothing he does really matters. Studying, working hard, friends, relationships, doing his best. It all seems like a scripted progress with an inevitable ending. He can't change anything about it. All there is left to do, is follow the predictable story his life has decided to be.

Except there might be one thing. It's not the first time he thinks about it – taking his life. Just turning the steering wheel in the middle of a lonely road. Ripping the script that everyone seems to have adamantly urged him to follow. Sometimes, he thinks it's frightening that this is the only thing left in his life that he really has a say in.

His parents dictate his career, his studies and his future, with no intention of listening to their son about what he might _want_ to do, instead of what makes him the most money. His friends aren't friends in the classic way. They are go-betweens and he is the same to them. Their connection is only valid and existent, as long as they can give each other something the other wants. And his relationships? What a joke. Girls that have no interest in him, beyond the money his parents own. His last girlfriend didn't even know that he played guitar sometimes, which is really the _only_ thing Mark still loves nowadays.

The only thing he can decide over is whether to live or to die. Sighing, he leans back to lie down on top of the laundry machine he has seated himself on, to wait. Then, the bell of the shop-door rings and his attention shifts to the entrance. Another sleepless student like him? Or the owner? Do shops like these have closing hours? Or maybe just the wind...

His eyes widen. Not the wind. Rather, a short boy with mussed up hair, wearing a stark white shirt that is completely covered in red splatters. At first Mark is hopeful enough to think that it's just a tacky design, but when he sees the splatters of color spread to the boy's cheeks, hands and pant-legs, he knows he is wrong. Straightening up where he sits, he stares at the boy wide-eyed. As if nothing was out of the ordinary, he continues to hum a song under his breath and rummages through his jeans-pockets. When he comes back with a coin, he walks over to one of the machines, close to Mark's own.

It might be a strange situation, but despite everything, Mark still has the decency to look away, when the strange boy begins to pull his soiled shirt over his head. Without a word, he watches his own laundry turn and turn and turn. At some point, his sight seems to join in, so he closes his eyes. Damn, when was the last time he had more than two hours of proper sleep?

"Aren't you gonna ask?"

Mark's eyes spring open and he is met with the boy's own gaze. His torso is bare now and he is wiping at his chin with his soiled shirt, "It's none of my business, anyways."

The boy laughs, "Interesting."

That seems to be the end of their conversation. Mark musters the white shirt in the boy's hands, "That's not gonna wash out."

"Huh?"

"The- uh..."

Snorting, the boy lifts a brow, "The blood?"

"Yeah." Mark scratches his neck, trying to ease the uncomfortable tension in the back of his head, "Especially not out of the white fabric. That's why hit men always wear black, so they can use the uniform more than once."

"The things you learn." The boy smirks and throws the shirt in the trash, before trailing back and holding a hand out to Mark, "I'm Donghyuck."

Mark musters his hand, "I'm Mark, but I won't shake your blood-stained hand."

"Ugh, details, details." Donghyuck sighs and stretches.

He is still bare all over his shoulders and chest and the cold of the night is seeping in from outside already. Mark notices how very thin he looks. The shirt had hidden it well, with its large size, but now there is nothing to cover up the sharp angles of his collarbones, poking ribs and hipbones. It looks kind of bizarre, seeing this scrawny kid, with still a little blood remaining on his cheek, standing in this run-down laundry shop without a shirt. Not thinking about it for long, Mark digs through his already dried laundry portion and pulls out a pink and purple jacket with sparkling butterfly prints on the arms and back. As he reaches it out to Donghyuck, the boy gives it a mortified look.

"The fuck is that?"

"From my ex-girlfriend." Mark explains, as Donghyuck takes it, "I don't think she will ever notice if it doesn't show up again." After a short pause he adds: "To be honest, even if she does I don't really care."

Zipping the ridiculous jacket up to his chin, Donghyuck sits down next to Mark in silence. It's awkward and Mark wonders whether he should be scared. There is a guy next to him, who was covered in blood that obviously wasn't his own. Did he kill someone? Or something? Is it just paint and Mark is getting pranked on? God, his head fucking _hurts._

"So, you're still not gonna ask?"

Mark sighs and climbs from the laundry machine, when his last load for the night finally dings, "You sound like you want me to ask."

"It's just unusual, I guess." Donghyuck shrugs and watches Mark haul the soaked clothes into a dryer, "Usually, people would get all panicky and call the police or something. Or run away, even."

Mark hums, "I guess."

An astonished sound comes out of Donghyuck's mouth and when Mark has finally started up the dryer, he looks back at him. Against everything he would have expected, there is joy on Donghyuck's face. He looks elated and Mark frowns at him in confusion.

"You just don't care, do you?"

Mark stares at the boy in silence, as he begins to laugh. It's a loud, high sound that drills Mark's headache a little further into his brain and he winces. He doesn't really see anything funny about this situation. Who knows, maybe Donghyuck is crazy. As long as Mark can wash his laundry in peace, he doesn't care whether Donghyuck laughs his heart out or not.

"Honestly, what's wrong with you!" Donghyuck squeezes out between chuckles, "What if I was a total psychopath? What if I just came in here and killed you! Oh my, so stupid. Don't you have any sense of self-preservation?"

Mark turns that thought over in his mind for a moment. To be honest, having a random guy walk into a laundry store in the middle of the night and try to murder him would be the first exciting thing that could happen to Mark in almost ten years now. Besides, what difference does it make if he dies in fifty years, a week or tonight? The world will continue to turn, his parents will move on eventually and he has no one who is close enough to him to come to his funeral for anything else than public image. As he stares at Donghyuck's bruised, bony knees, he feels a thick wave of self-pity wash over him.

Donghyuck hums, when he still doesn't answer, "My god, aren't you a sad one. You really wouldn't care if I just killed you right now." Another chuckle, "Guess that makes two of us."

At that, Mark's head whips up to look at the other boy, "What do you mean?"

Ignoring Mark's question, Donghyuck jumps down from the laundry machine, "I got something special planned for tonight Mark. Something that is going to end this ridiculous excuse of a lifetime, I have to put up with. But first, I'm going to do anything I fucking want to do, no matter what it is. Kind of like the last meal, you know?"

Skipping in his steps, Donghyuck walks towards the entrance door of the laundry room. Mark stays rooted where he is and watches the strange boy distance himself. He looks at the pitiful pile of blood-soiled fabric that used to cover Donghyuck up just moments ago. His words echo in Mark's mind, tumbling and wrapping him up.

Suddenly, his headache is gone.

"Wait!" He doesn't even recognize his own voice. Only the small sliver of something that has a tight hold on his heart. Something wild and unpredictable, "What are you planning?"

"I'm going to have the best night of my life and then I'll jump from the Mapo Bridge and kill myself." Donghyuck says simply, "Feel free to come along."

Instead of waiting for an answer or watching Mark's reaction, Donghyuck turns and walks out of the store. The bell rings and all of a sudden, Mark is alone again. No sound, except the thrumming of the laundry machine. His head pulses with the rhythm of the machine's turns. As he stares at the shop-door, suddenly he feels wide-awake. It's like he sees the world in a clear light, for the first time in his life. He leaves the basket of dry clothes on the ground and abandons the load that still shakes in the dryer. His steps sound distant, as he sprints towards the entrance door, to follow Donghyuck into the night.

\--*--

"So, whose blood is it?"

Donghyuck laughs so loud, one might think Mark had just told him the best joke in a lifetime, "Now you're finally asking?"

"Honestly, are you never satisfied?" Mark grumbles, "First you want me to ask, I don't ask. Now I do and you don't want me to?"

"Guess I'm just complicated like that."

They're walking along the parking lot, outside of the laundry shop and Mark doesn't even question Donghyuck, when he heads straight for a McDonalds on the opposite side. It's fucking dark, if it wasn't for the streetlights, Mark wouldn't be able to see his own hand in front of his eyes. The stars though, have disappeared behind the light pollution of the city. He has never paid a lot of attention to them, but right now he wishes they were visible. They are the only thing that had always been permanent in his life – always steady. Is there a place in the city, where you could see them?

"It's my boyfriend's." Donghyuck finally breaks the silence, voice as blasé as if he was talking about the weather, "Or perhaps, ex-boyfriend. Depends on whether he decides to haunt me and we get back together."

Mark's eyes widen at that, "Wh-yo-you killed your own boyfriend?"

"Piece of shit. I wouldn't have, if he didn't try to kill me first." The other remarks, almost sounding like a child, trying to defend itself for shoving another kid in the sandbox, "Honestly, I saw it coming. I didn't want to kill him only... majorly injure him. Turns out a knife to the chest is not something you can patch up."

He pulls the door to the McDonalds open and Mark tries his best to ignore the confused and frightened stares they get from the one person that is currently there; The employee. She must have spotted the bloody patches on Donghyuck's pants and hands, because her eyes are wide and shaky. Mark almost thinks about comforting her, but he doesn't think that she would actually listen to him of all people. Since he came in with Donghyuck and probably looks like a ghost himself. They would make a good Halloween pairing.

"Five big portions of fries, please." Donghyuck orders calmly and the girl quickly nods.

"You hungry or something?"

Pouting in thought, Donghyuck rummages in his pockets, before he pulls out a twenty-dollar bill, "I haven't eaten in three days."

"I guess that's what you look like." Mark says.

"Thank you."

It wasn't necessarily meant to be a compliment, but Mark feels like an ass saying that out loud, so he stays quiet. Donghyuck takes the fries from the girl, which are quickly done. He follows the other, as he leads them to a secluded table all the way in the back and falls down in a seat with a huff. A little awkward in his movements, Mark joins him. When was the last time he had been out to eat with a friend? Of course, describing Donghyuck as a friend is a bit bold, considering they have only known each other for a couple of minutes. Yet, he feels like as much of a friend as all the other people he had titled like that in the last years. Strangers, really, with no interest in a bond that went beyond the superficial.

"Dig in soldier, it's going to be a long night." Donghyuck proposes, picking up a fry.

Mark complies, letting the salty taste of old fries fill his mouth, "What exactly _did_ you plan, if it's going to be so long."

Donghyuck hums, "I want to steal something. Not a whole bank robbery, you know but... just something small. I always wanted to try shoplifting. My friend Jaehyun used to be really good at it."

"Used to? Did he unlearn it?"

"Not quite." Donghyuck shrugs, "Went to jail and got his hands and tongue cut off, so he isn't going to steal from anyone any time soon."

Mark gapes, "That's... oh my god that's horrifying."

"You think so? He always said he had it coming... when he could still speak." A little dazed, Donghyuck giggles to himself and gnaws at his fry. Mark doesn't miss the way he takes as long for one fry as Mark takes for ten. "I also want to go clubbing, maybe make out with a stranger."

Again, Mark's eyebrows pull together, "Seems a bit wannabe-Hollywood, if you ask me."

Donghyuck snorts, his tiny body shaking with laughter, "You really are something. I guess, it might be. Maybe, I just want to know I'm still desirable."

"What makes you think you're not?"

"The world?" Donghyuck deadpans, throwing a fry at Mark's face, "Mostly my boyf-... ex-boyfriend though. Kept telling me he wants to puke whenever he sees me. I know that I'm beautiful." he pauses, "I just want someone else to tell me that, not just myself. Is that too much?"

Mark turns that over in his head, the same way he turns a fry between his fingers, "No. No, I get it." He shoves the fry in his mouth, "Alright, so stealing, clubbing and a fugitive romance. Anything else?"

As if honestly thinking about it, Donghyuck taps an index against his chin, "I'd like to smash something." A wicked grin breaks out on his lips, "And really piss someone off with it."

"Summarizing all of this, you want to inflict chaos." Mark mutters, "Let me guess, it's all a revenge for what the big bad world has done to you?"

Humming, Donghyuck throws him an undecipherable look, "I guess you got me there, but you know what? Only someone who feels the same would understand it without explanation, like you just did."

Leaning back in his chair, Mark averts his eyes, "I don't have a dispute with the world."

"No, but you're sick of it." Donghyuck says, hitting the nail on the head, "I knew that, the moment I walked in the laundry shop and you looked at me like I was just another silhouette of empty faces in the world. You have lived your entire life already, but you're not even twenty-five yet. You might not have the urge to leave as soon as possible, like me, but god knows you wouldn't care when you do."

He can't even object that, which is probably what frustrates Mark at that moment. Maybe, the anger comes from knowing Donghyuck is right. Knowing that there is truly nothing left in this world that makes Mark want to live as long as he can. Makes him want to be careful, to not mess up, to take care of himself. There is nothing that keeps him here and he has accepted that. Hearing it out loud like this though, makes him want to smash his head into the next windowpane.

Sighing, Mark gnaws on another fry, "Are you trying to convince me to kill myself with you? Is that what this is about?"

"I would, if I felt like it was necessary." Donghyuck stares darkly into their mountain of fries. So far, he has eaten two in total, "But you know I'm right."

Mark doesn't say anything to that, instead he shoves a fry into Donghyuck's mouth. The other bites him in the finger, but at least he has eaten three fries instead of two at that point.

\--*--

"This."

Mark frowns, "No..."

"I want it, Mark you don't understand, it's perfect." Donghyuck cries out happily, nose pressed against the glass-display of 'Lee's Perverse Paradise'.

A sex shop. Of all the stores that line the lost streets in the depths of night, Donghyuck had stirred them right for the cheapest looking one. It's not just about the tacky font that glows above the door in neon pink, neither is it about the lewd posters that have been pasted onto the entrance door. Not even about the other contents in the display, showcasing mannequins with lewd costumes and curious items that people could not possibly use on themselves without an injury. Honestly, Mark would have been more understanding, if Donghyuck's eyes had been on a choker or even a lace-set.

But no, out of everything in this big-ass world, Donghyuck has chosen this: A teddy bear. It's not just a teddy bear though, because then it wouldn't be a problem. No, it's a teddy bear with a dominatrix outfit and Mark wants to pour bleach into his eyes and, maybe even his brain for good measure.

Donghyuck looks like he has struck gold though. Like this isn't some perverse version of a child memory, but rather a bar of pure gold that will make him the happiest man alive.

"Can't we go for a video game or something?"

Donghyuck gives him a look, "Because I'm going to have so much time playing it, before I dive head-first into my doom. This little guy here will at least fulfill his purpose, until the time has come."

Sighing, Mark leans against the shop's exterior, "And that would be?"

"Being cute, duh."

"You have your last night on earth and the thing you want to steal is a kinky plushie?" It feels good to specify this occasion, because Donghyuck doesn't seem to get the nature of it.

"Precisely." The boy nods, looming along the door and tugging at it with a hand, "And the fact that that surprises you as much as it does, just shows how little you really know me."

"To be fair, I did just meet you about an hour ago." Mark says.

As those words, too, make themselves present in the open, he realizes the weight of everything that is going on. This boy – this random, lost kid – has turned Mark's world upside down in a matter of minutes. But the most fucked up thing isn't even the fact that he wants to kill himself as soon as the first sunlight comes from the horizon. No, the real messed up aspect is that Mark is standing right there, actually contemplating to join.

None of this scares him, doesn't even worry him and just like Donghyuck had pointed out: It shows exactly how little he cares. How detached he is from his life. How death is just another thing to get done, instead of this big, frightening mystery that it's supposed to be.

He wonders how he could grow to think like that. But just like with everything else, he finds that it doesn't really matter to him.

"Well, would you look at that, isn't that almost boring?" Donghyuck grins, when the door suddenly creaks open.

In his hand, there is a student ID-card, which is still splattered with remains of blood. It's hard to see anything in the dark, but Mark is pretty sure the name doesn't say 'Lee Donghyuck'. He is distracted by Donghyuck, cautiously pushing the door open and slipping inside of the shop. After a few breaths, Mark follows.

It's dark inside of 'Lee's Perverse Paradise' and just as it had seemed from outside, the shop is pretty small. There is a large wall with dildos and other ominously shaped objects and another with lingerie and costumes. At the counter, a large display shines with all sorts of collars, handcuffs and ropes. Mark imagines that, during the day, the lights would be an excruciating neon-pink and there would be a sultry RnB song playing in the background. Strange enough that his first visit to a sex shop is tonight, of all nights.

It seems like, without knowing, Donghyuck is dead-set on making this the strangest night of Mark's entire life.

Maybe, also the last night.

Shaking his head, he follows Donghyuck towards the display, where the bear is still waiting. Along the way he gets caught up, staring at some of the butt plugs there. With a terrified look, he picks one of the biggest up.

"Ouch." He mutters, half-throwing it back in its place.

In the silence of the store, Mark can't help but feel a little tingly. Donghyuck is all calm and relaxed, taking his sweet time to browse around the other strange items of the shop, without any intend on taking anything along. But Mark feels his blood bump, almost _hears_ it. Is it the prospect of getting caught? The possibility of landing in prison, because he followed a crazy stranger on his final 'tour de chaos'? And what for? A thrill, something new, something that might prove to him that he is more than just an empty shell, walking the streets and pretending to be a person.

And what for? Just to feel alive.

Mark's heartbeat slows down.

When they get to the bear, Donghyuck releases a little squealing sound. If Mark didn't know better, he might think Donghyuck is only half the age, Mark guesses him to be.

As Donghyuck wraps the bear up in his arms, it's strangely endearing. They fit together, with their matching soft faces, yet obvious scowls. Both look unamused and done with the world, but both are equally as cute. If you only look at the bear's face, that is. Mark pointedly avoids looking at the leather set the bear is sporting.

"I'm going to name you Gaño. Short of desengaño." Donghyuck states proudly.

"What does that even mean?"

Pressing the bear under his arm, Donghyuck makes to stroll back out of the shop, "Spanish for disappointment."

"What the actual fuck is going on here?"

When the lights suddenly switch on above their head (Purple, not pink, but close enough), Mark swears his heart falls into his ass. Donghyuck looks less bothered, but his eyes are a bit wider than usually. They turn towards the strange voice that had spoken, finding a confused looking man behind the counter of collars and ropes. He is dressed rather fitting for the store; dark satin and glistening jewelry, smoky eye makeup and styled hair. Most possibly the most gorgeous man Mark has ever seen and of all the places in the world he finds him _here?_

Mark scrambles: "W-we can explain..."

"Ah yeah?" The man crosses his hands in front of his chest, but even then Mark can see the nametag that reads 'Taeyong', "Please, do entertain me."

"We, uh- I mean, the two of us–"

"I wanted the bear." Donghyuck says.

Taeyong lifts a brow, "And are you going to pay for the bear?"

"Initially, I wasn't going to", the younger admits and looks at the plushie in his arms, "But Gaño would be very desengaño in me, if I didn't right? I'd be the villain again, stealing the damsel in distress. Would you come save him, Mr. sex shop owner?"

Obviously unsure whether he is dealing with a psychopath, Taeyong looks at Mark for a moment. Since Mark doesn't know the answer to that either though, he shrugs, "Just put the goddamn bear back, you can come back tomorrow, when we're open."

"But I'll be dead tomorrow." Donghyuck whines, looking at Gaño in contemplation. Taeyong's eyebrows move impossibly higher. Suddenly, Donghyuck's eyes go wide and he presses the bear's face against his ear. It almost looks like he is holding a phone to his ear, "Hm? What's that my dear? Mark and I should do what? Fun? Bun? Sun...? Aaaah!" With a grin, Donghyuck's eyes suddenly find Mark's, "Run."

Even with the poor warning, Mark finds himself stumble, more than run after the other boy. It's impressive: How Donghyuck can be so fast and agile, when he is literally skin and bones. Taeyong seems taken aback just as well, yelling out a high-pitched 'hey, stop!' as they slip out of the shop again. Donghyuck's laughter rings in the night, echo jumping back and forth against the tall buildings around them. Mark follows him, footsteps in synch with the other. He watches his back move, Gaño still under his arm, as he runs like the devil is behind them. Even if a furious sex-shop owner might be the closest to that they can get.

They stop a minute later, fooling themselves into relying on the darkness of the night to hide them. It's quiet. No more shouts about 'paying for the damn BDSM-bear' or hurried footsteps that sound behind them. Mark watches Donghyuck fall onto a park bench, chest rising and falling way too quickly. For a moment, Mark is worried he might pass out. Having a (still) stranger collapse and possibly get a heart attack is even less of what he had imagined this night to go like. But Donghyuck still wears that dumb grin, even with his eyes closed and he clutches Gaño to his chest like he is the softest thing he has ever touched. No, Mark thinks he should be fine.

"That was fun." Donghyuck pants out, finding the strength to look around, "Where the fuck are we?"

Mark takes their surroundings in, with furrowed brows. He thinks he has been here once, for Christmas to do their service. It's darker than in the streets, because with all the trees, the streetlights don't reach all the way into the middle. The middle being a small park, prim and orderly, surrounding a small church. Its wooden doors glisten under a single lamp above the entrance.

"We're at a house of the lord." He answers, wondering why it sounds so mysterious to say such a thing in the middle of the night.

Donghyuck musters the building, "A church, huh?"

Maybe, he should stop Donghyuck the moment he gets into motion, but all Mark finds himself do is follow the other boy towards the entrance. Donghyuck's eyes are big and filled with little lights, as he takes all of it in. It's hard to tell what he is thinking – even more than usual – but Mark still yelps when he jolts the door and it creaks open under his force.

"Donghyuck, what the hell are you doing? What if someone is inside?"

The boy hums, slipping inside, "Then maybe, we'll finally find redemption, or something."

Cursing under his breath another time, Mark looks around the park. Suddenly, being all alone, everything looks a lot scarier than before. To be honest, if he thinks about it, Mark isn't sure what would still be left to scare him in this world, but he still finds himself shiver. Maybe, it's just the shadows – how they creep and move, even as they should stand still. A cracking stick somewhere gives him the necessary shove to follow Donghyuck inside.

It's eerily quiet, once the door falls shut behind him. Only Donghyuck's and his own steps echo a million times louder around the place. The darkness is broken by a set of candles near the entrance and another handful on the altar. Mark eyes the many, many candles on the iron frame next to him. Each candle is a life lost. A life that might have been worth more than his own, a life that might have been more cherished, too. Those people are missed, because here is the proof: The candles that are lighted, in their memory.

When he dies, there might just be a candle for him, too.

No, there definitely will. His parents might be overbearing and controlling, but they aren't heartless. No matter how much the things they do hurt him, they have always done all of it in his favor. To give him the possibility of a safe and comfortable life. A life he could enjoy.

A life that would be gone, if there was one more candle.

Mark glances at Donghyuck. Musters his boney shoulders that poke against the fabric of the ugly jacket Mark had given him. His legs are like sticks – withered and without leaves, shaking like the trees in the deepest winter. He carries himself with something Mark has never seen before. One could easily mistake it for a lazy hunch, maybe someone who is entirely too tired to be awake. But the more he looks, the more Mark knows what he sees is the first person he has ever met to truly feel peace.

When he looks at Donghyuck, Mark knows that Donghyuck doesn't care about time. He doesn't care about days and hours, seconds and years. He doesn't care about the future and even if he cares, he doesn't think about the past. He is just here. Aimless, listless, timeless. So light, so thin, he floats. Almost dead.

Gulping, Mark grabs a candle from the box, slips a coin from his pocket inside the cash box and reaches for a lighter. As he lights the candle and places it next to the others, the fire flickers further up into the air than the rest of them. With a sigh, he puts the lighter down and walks down the aisle in the middle.

Donghyuck's hair glistens with the light of the candles reflecting, where he sits on the stone floor in front of the altar. His head is tilted up, gaze fixed on the huge statue of a crucified Jesus. Mark musters the statue's dead and sorrowful eyes, staring at the ground, as he drops down next to Donghyuck. When he looks at the other boy, he finds Gaño in his lap, staring up at the altar with eyes, equally as big as Donghyuck's. For a long while, they just sit there in silence and Mark doesn't mind.

"My mom used to believe in god." Donghyuck suddenly says, "She'd make me pray. Seek forgiveness for my sins and all the other bullshit she didn't want me to do or be. I feel sorry for him."

Mark tilts his head, "Whom?"

"God." he answers, "Boy has to act as a buffer for all the dumb shit humans insist on doing. Then the very same use him as an excuse to suppress others. For a guy who only wanted peace and love, he sure as hell got dragged into a lot of chaos."

The ghost of a rosary tickles around Mark's neck. Until he was fifteen, he had always worn it. He doesn't remember what happened then, but one day he put it down and didn't feel the need to wear it anymore. It just didn't feel like it made a difference. Still, there is an urge in him, maybe the ghost of his own belief, which tells him to defend the weeping man on the altar.

"It's not his fault."

"No, it's not. But that doesn't really matter, does it?" Donghyuck sighs, digging his fingers into Gaño's stuffed body, until the bear's face is all crumpled, "What matters is the power he gives to people."

Mark picks at one of his fingernails, "Power?"

"God is like a get out of jail card in monopoly." Donghyuck's voice rings in the empty church like a droplet of water, "It doesn't matter how terrible the shit was that got you in there, you say it was in his name and you're clean. People abuse his name, so they can be god themselves." Huffing, Donghyuck pushes to his knees, "I used to believe in him, too." His voice is growing a little thicker around the edges and Mark worries he might break down, "But he never spoke up against those who did me wrong, so I stopped."

As he watches Donghyuck step up to the altar, with all its flowers and candles, Mark thinks he understands. He understands it with the way Donghyuck's eyes aren't angry, as they look back up at the statue, but rather filled with deep remorse. Perhaps, Donghyuck _wanted_ to believe. But there was nothing for him to believe in. Mark fears that it might have been the same for him. It could be that they are asking for too much, just a little too gentle mercy, a little too high hopes. However, looking at them now; two young boys, with their bodies hollow and their hearts heavy, searching out a church in the middle of the night to look for something neither of them knows about... one might say they deserve a little mercy, a little hope.

"I'm going to kill myself tonight." It takes a moment for Mark to realize he wasn't the one Donghyuck talked to, "I hope you're not angry. It's just been a pretty shitty ride and I'm..." From where he stands, Mark can't see his face, but his voice might as well have been a thousand shards of glass, "I'm tired, dude."

With a wet sigh, Donghyuck places Gaño on the altar, patting him a little to fix the creases he had pressed into his face. It doesn't work that well. The bear looks a little deranged now, what with one of its eyes almost hidden by its eyebrow. The leather BDSM-ensemble doesn't help. It will make for a strange surprise to the pastor in the morning. An even stranger surprise to the guy watching from above.

Grabbing Mark's hand, Donghyuck pulls him out of the church and Mark lets him. As they pass the candle-stand near the entrance, Mark musters the candle he had lit for Donghyuck.

A gush of wind must have blown it out.

\--*--

They pass a clock tower at around 3.30am, when Donghyuck lets out the first yawn, "Damn, I could use a coffee or a Red Bull to be honest." Then, he looks at Mark through the corner of his eye and Mark braces for the inevitable question, "Aren't you tired at all? You still look like you could run a mile or two."

"Trust me, I'm plenty tired." Mark says, kicking a discarded can on the sidewalk, "But if I laid down now and closed my eyes, I wouldn't fall asleep until six a.m."

Donghyuck hums with a grin, "Insomniac, huh? I always wondered what that's like. Don't you have way more time to do stuff now, though?"

"Stuff?" He finds himself laugh, "I actually spend all that extra time trying to sleep, so not really."

"Wow, what a waste."

"Tell that to all my brain cells that are slowly dying with my lack of rest." Mark grumbles and Donghyuck snorts.

They have been walking for the better part of an hour or so, seemingly aimless. Mark doesn't know where Donghyuck is taking him and frankly, he doesn't really care either. There are still a couple of things on Donghyuck's 'pre-muerte bucket list' as he had so lovingly named it and Mark is just a little curious as to what will be next. After all, they only have a couple more hours until sunrise. Sunrise, when they will both jump from the Mapo Bridge to die. Funny, how easily Mark has accepted his fate by now.

He doesn't even have stage fright.

Somehow that thought surprises him enough to stop in his tracks. Donghyuck takes a second to notice, but when he does, he musters Mark with cautious confusion. Funny, to see Donghyuck look at him the way everyone else has looked at Donghyuck so far. Maybe, he's rubbing off on Mark, they're becoming one big blob of haunted soul, instead of two individuals with their heads already in the grave. That makes him laugh. Then he laughs a little more, because Donghyuck actually looks disturbed.

Shaking his head with laughter, Mark sets into motion again. Donghyuck watches him, still careful, but he goes along anyways. Then, when Mark can't seem to stop laughing, he finds Donghyuck's face finally crack up, too. A wide, bean-shaped grin with a lot of gums.

"Who would have thought in the whole city I run into someone who is as fucked up as I am." Donghyuck says, more to himself.

Honestly, Mark can't even find it in himself to be offended, "Lucky you."

"Seriously though", Donghyuck mumbles, face turning up at the night sky. There is not a single star in sight with all the light-pollution, "Why don't you sleep?"

"Why don't you eat?" For a moment, Mark thinks about taking it back, but Donghyuck looks at him with all the calmness of the sea. It's clear that he has no intent to answer though, so Mark adds: "We're both scared of something. This is how we evade it."

The corner of Donghyuck's lip twitches, "I'm starting to like you, you know?"

"Sounds like you expected the opposite."

"Not necessarily", He shrugs, "I just didn't expect anything at all, to be honest."

In front of them, downtown begins to widen out. They have made it into the poorer region of the city, barking dogs and fighting couples breaking the quiet they had gotten so used to. Above them a street light flickers and Mark has to side step a stop sign that has seen better days. Usually, Mark is never around here. None of his 'friends' could potentially live around here and attend a college like his own at the same time. There is no reason for him to ever be there, plus his parents don't like seeing him lurk around ominous neighborhoods. It's not so bad, really – a little run down, of course, but not frightening.

Donghyuck seems to feel the same, curious eyes taking everything in. Mark is starting to think that the other boy doesn't have a clue where they are either, but strangely enough that doesn't make him nervous. They've grown accustomed to being lost, it's just usually a different kind of disorientation.

They walk down a broader street, slow and in silence, when suddenly a movement catches Mark's eye. His heart jumps for a moment, once again making him wonder what there could be left to fear. When a silent 'meow' croaks through the night, he can't help but smile. Donghyuck crouches down with a coo, beckoning the muddy, white cat closer. It's thin, but purrs when it rubs its nose against Donghyuck's outstretched knuckles.

"You two look lost."

For a surreal moment, Mark thinks the cat had spoken. Ridiculous, now that he thinks about it, but nonetheless confusing. It's only a moment later that he discovers the young man, crouched down at the front step of a broken house. His features are sunken, but not as sharp as Donghyuck's. Perhaps the biggest difference lies in his eyes – bright and warm. Filled, not hollow. Suddenly, Mark sees Donghyuck's gaze a little different.

"We don't care where we're going, we'll just follow the street and see where it ends." Donghyuck mutters, petting the cat.

"Thank you, though." Mark adds quickly, because even if the man is thin, there is no doubt he would tower over both of them, if he decided to get up.

"That's not what I meant." The man clicks his tongue and, as if struck by a lightning, the cat turns and rushes towards his arms. Mark watches fascinated, as it settles in his hold and buries its tiny, pink nose into the man's chest, "You're lost _here._ " A slender finger lifts as the man pokes his own chest, "As if you sent your heart on a journey that you knew it wouldn't come back from."

Donghyuck huffs, moving to get going, "Okay, thank you Aristotle, I'll go check on my heart." He pats his chest, "Yeah, no – still there."

"You haven't made piece with that yet." The man realizes and Mark thinks he sees a bit of surprise in his eyes, "You're scared. Scared because you've lost it and you don't know where to look, but you're still looking. You on the other hand..." Mark feels the man's gaze heavy on himself, "You have accepted it long ago, haven't you? My boy... I'm so sorry."

His voice seems to have abandoned him. All Mark can do is stand there, with his mouth slightly agape and his chest filled with stones. There's a sour taste in the back of his throat. Something about this man is... he doesn't know how to describe it, but Mark doesn't think he is crazy. He thinks that this man might be the only person who really knows what he is talking about, who Mark met in a long time. If that's a good thing or a bad thing, he isn't sure. Maybe, he would prefer the man were crazy.

"Alright then... thanks for the pep-talk my dude." Donghyuck says, his hand closing around Mark's sleeve to pull him along, "We're kinda in a hurry, gotta be somewhere by sunrise and there's still a lot to do, so if you don't mind..."

"What's your name, boy?"

"Donghyuck." He answers with a huff.

"Donghyuck..." The man repeats it, as if testing the name out. His hand strokes slow and steady over the cat's back, "Take care of yourself, but... be even more careful with your friend."

Gulping down the lump in his throat, Mark averts his eyes to the ground. Next to him, Donghyuck's fist is still tight around his sleeve, but he can feel the conflict raging in the boy's mind. It's almost visible beyond his big eyes. The dim shadows of the remaining streetlights have his face look even more hollow than usual, but Mark finds he is still no less gorgeous.

"Alright, promise." Donghyuck nods, suddenly seeming a little more sober, "You take care, too...?"

"Johnny."

\--*--

"Well that sure was strange." Mark mumbles, once they are out of earshot.

Donghyuck hums, but he doesn't seem quite as amused as Mark. Something about the conversation unsettled him. Mark hopes he doesn't feel invalidated. The worst thing he could have right now, is a stranger telling him how to feel, but Donghyuck doesn't seem angry at all. Rather, as if there was something on his mind that needed his full attention.

Mark has no problem with walking in silence for a little longer and giving the other some space. They make it out of the poorer district again, finding themselves near a riverside. The rushing water makes the air cooler and Mark shivers a little. There are no boats on the surface, this late at night, all that rattles the water is the wind and the city lights that reflect like liquid gold. When Donghyuck pauses at the edge, Mark follows him. They stare into the raging depths together, a handful of stars crinkling past the light pollution.

"Do you really want to die?"

Mark looks up in surprise. Donghyuck won't look back at him, eyes still fixated on the river. Funny, Mark had wanted to ask him the very same question since they had taken off from the laundry shop, but somehow he hadn't gotten the words past his teeth. And now, that he is the one on the answering end, he finds he doesn't even have anything left to say.

Bending down, Mark picks up a tiny rock and throws it as far into the water as he can, "I don't know. It doesn't really matter, does it?"

"It does." This time, Donghyuck's eyes do find him, "Wanting to die and not caring whether you die or live... I can't explain it, but that almost sounds worse."

"That makes no sense."

"Think about it, Mark", Donghyuck says, "If you have no reason to live and no reason to die, what are you left with?"

He wants to yell at Donghyuck then. There is no reason as to why, but Mark feels wounded for the first time in an eternity. The words hit the last rotting spot inside of him that seems to care enough. Yeah, he wants to yell at Donghyuck. Hit him, maybe, on the arm, the chest, the face, until his own knuckles are split. And he hopes Donghyuck hits back. That he could get a taste of anything that proves to him that he still has something left.

But he doesn't. He can't, because the flame inside him – the one small spot Donghyuck's words had pierced like an arrow – dies down. It blows out like the candle in the church and the smoke it emits makes Mark's throat grow dry, until he almost chokes on it.

Maybe, Donghyuck sees it – that conflict that is entirely too big for Mark's body. What other reason would he have to reach out for his hand and squeeze it? He is ice-cold, but Mark doesn't even care. His own fingers close around bony ones so tight, he fears he could break them. Donghyuck doesn't even wince. He waits in silence, until Mark has killed the storm in his chest. Until the steady rushing of the river has brought back the peace to his mind. There is no reason to dwell on this anymore. He is going to be dead soon and then, it won't matter what he has left anymore.

"Let's smash something." Mark rasps.

"Huh?"

"That was on your list, wasn't it?" He untangles his hand from Donghyuck's again and looks around the area, "I've got a really good idea."

For the first time, Donghyuck is the one who follows him. They pry through the night, towards a neighborhood, Mark is all too familiar with. Even in the darkness, it's easy to find the apartment complex with the broken flower-boxes and the rusty bike rack. Mark has been here enough times to recognize every corner and every window. Seems like the prick even still has the fern Mark had gifted him for his birthday. That was two years ago. After their little showdown, Mark would have expected him to just throw the plant into the trash, but Jeno had never been a person to feel guilty about his possessions.

"What are we doing here?" Donghyuck asks.

Mark's eyes wander and he makes a happy, little noise, when he finds the kricket bat the kids in the neighborhood always leave lying around. It's not very big, but it will definitely do. "We're smashing my ex's motorbike."

"Now, who's the one 'taking revenge on the big bad world', huh?" There is no bite to his tone, only a little grin, "I'm assuming it didn't end too well between you two?"

"You could say that", Mark mumbles, shuffling to hand Donghyuck an old, rusty pipe that had been discarded on the sidewalk. The other weighs it in his hand, tosses it back and forth between his hands and hums satisfied, "First and only male relationship partner I had. I wasn't out to my parents back then, but we kept it a secret and I promised I'd tell them, once I was ready. Turns out he got a little impatient."

Donghyuck lifts a brow, following Mark as he scans the parked vehicles around the neighborhood, "What did he do?"

"Told me I was selfish for keeping him a secret, so he got angry and went ahead to tell my parents without me knowing. There was a pretty good reason I wanted to wait with telling them, until I moved out." Mark explains, grip tightening on his bat with the anger that the memories bring, "It's not just that he outed me though. He told them I was 'pushing' him and 'imposing' on him to date me and he felt used by my 'advances'. That's how I ended up with three years of grounding, no phone and a girlfriend."

The whole story seems to settle in and Donghyuck puffs out his cheeks in disbelief, "Damn okay... I don't really get how the girlfriend comes into the story, though."

"My parents. They wanted to 'cleanse' me, by reminding me of the magic of the female physique. You can guess how that worked out." Mark says.

"Well, if that ain't all kinds of fucked up." Donghyuck answers. A moment later, he chuckles to himself and Mark throws him a questioning look, "I didn't think you were gay."

"I'm not." He rolls his eyes when he sees the other's skeptical look, "I just don't really care about it."

Humming, Donghyuck props the pipe on his shoulder, "Like you do with everything else."

"Whatever. Come on."

They pass by several cars, a couple of bikes and one motorbike that is entirely too pink to be Jeno's. Mark is almost beginning to think Jeno might have gotten rid of it, when he finally glimpses a long slope of shiny, black metal. It's still as polished as it was back then. No surprise, really, in retrospect Mark thinks Jeno might have loved that machine more than him.

"Jackpot."

Mark grins to himself, standing in front of the motorbike. Donghyuck musters it in silence. Now that Mark finds them standing here, with the situation becoming very much real, he doesn't know what to do. Maybe, they should just leave it after all? Is it really worth the satisfaction? How do you even do something like this? Are there cameras around that could watch them and deliver evidence right to the police? He looks up at Donghyuck, who looks as relaxed as the river Mark can still hear rushing.

Of course he is calm. There is no reason for Donghyuck to fear the police, if he is dead by tomorrow.

"Okay, so how are we gonna do thi-"

An ear-shattering crash breaks through the night, when Donghyuck swings his pipe against the side-view mirror on his side. The tiny thing breaks off like plastic, shattering on the asphalt and the mirror painting the sidewalk with stars. Mark is so stunned for a moment, he simply gapes at Donghyuck's doings. The boy in question looks satisfied, hand on his hip and grinning at the broken mirror.

"Your turn bad boy." Donghyuck nods at the vehicle, "Aren't you gonna show him who he shouldn't have messed with?"

Mark stares at the shining surface of the motorbike, smooth and untouched. Yeah. Yeah, he would show Jeno, because even after all this time Mark is just so fucking angry. Really, doing this to him, knowing it was his first relationship with another boy? Knowing how his parents would react – what it would mean to Mark. All of it, because he didn't want to wait a little longer? All of that, because he was too proud to be a secret and would rather cut Mark in half, than hide with him?

_CRASH!_

"There you go!" Donghyuck cheers.

Mark had never had his heart broken again. It must have been, because there was nothing left to break. Jeno had taken everything he had left in himself, all of the passion and love, and shattered it to pieces. Now, Mark would give him just a glimpse of the hurt he felt.

_CRASH!_

That fucking bastard.

_CRASH!_

_That fucking bastard!_

_CRASH!_

"THAT FUCKING BASTARD!"

"FUCKING BASTAAARD!" Donghyuck chimes in and together, they hammer their weapons of justice against Jeno's motorbike.

Until there is no smooth surface left. Until the shards that litter the ground around them crunch beneath their feet. Until the motorbike is so messed up, it actually falls over. Until Mark feels his shoulders straighten and his heart rise in satisfaction.

Above them a light goes on behind a closed window. They share a wide-eyed look, when someone appears behind the curtains and the window opens. A middle-aged lady whips her head around the place, eyes settling on the two boys. She only takes a short moment to understand the situation.

"What in god's name is going on out here?!" She screeches, "I'm going to call the police, don't you two dare move a muscle!"

Donghyuck looks at him, "Let's move a muscle."

They drop the bat and the pipe along the sidewalk and dash for their lives. Donghyuck is laughing, dumb and breathless and Mark has to pull him along by the arm, because he slows down too fast. Mark doesn't feel like slowing down yet. He wants to keep running.

Run to, run from.

See where his feet will take him, where this night will take him, where Donghyuck will take him, because so far that has been the only thing he could do. The only thing that seemed to make sense. Break the chains around his hollow bones, because if he dies he wants to die free. He wants to die, knowing that all those people who thought they had a say in his life couldn't have a say in this one.

Run, run, die, free, live.

\--*--

They do slow down at the end, because Donghyuck gasps about loosing consciousness and Mark for the first time, realizes the impact of an empty stomach over several days. They buy Donghyuck a low-calorie power-system bar and Mark packs himself a bag of watermelon gummies. As they sit down on the sidewalk and eat in silence, Mark musters their snacks with a snort. Their last meal.

A low-cal protein bar and stale gummiworms.

"We're missing Champaign." he blurts out with his thought-process.

"You wanna get drunk?" Donghyuck laughs, every bite he takes from the bar is smaller than a pea, "Call me crazy, but I'd rather be sober when I jump to my death than have it potentially turn out as an accident. If people know I was drunk, they wouldn't think it was my decision. I need them to know it was." He pauses, looks at Mark and grins again, "You do you, though."

Ripping a gummiworm in half with his teeth Mark says: "It was meant more in a celebratory way."

"You want to celebrate your revenge?"

"No, I want to celebrate our revenge." The answer comes without thinking.

Donghyuck stays silent then, looking around the place. There is barely anything where they landed, but Donghyuck's head cranes towards the only source of noise around them. It's a low thumping, Mark can feel it more than hear it, through the ground. It rattles his bones, calls out to him almost.

As if feeling the same, Donghyuck pushes to his feet and reaches out a hand for him to take, "Let's go."

As so often before, Mark doesn't ask where. He lets Donghyuck pull him up and wishes the last gummiworm out of his bag, before trashing it. Donghyuck throws the remaining half of his bar away, too and they set into motion. As they come closer, the thumping gradually turns into a rhythm – a beat, Mark understands. It's music. At the realization he grows slightly giddy. All his life his heart had been filled with love for music and yet, he had never been allowed to indulge in it. Playing guitar was the furthest he got with his parents and even that, he was only allowed to do to a limited amount. Things like clubbing, karaoke or even watching musicals had never been on his list of privileges. Hell, he had been lucky to own headphones, even though they grew pretty useless, when his phone was taken.

Donghyuck looks like a fish in the water though, chatting up the bouncer and talking him into letting them in. Mark isn't sure how he does it, but there is a lot of lip-biting and sneaky touches involved that he would rather not over-analyze too much. They get in without even having to show their ID though, so Mark counts it as a win.

Inside, neon lights are swirling and the music is so loud, Mark feels his headache return for the first time since the laundry shop. But he ignores it, in favor of watching Donghyuck nodding his head to the beat and guiding him through the club. It's packed, despite the early hours, there are a lot of people, sweaty and glistening bodies swaying. Black light colors have been sprayed around the place, some of it even painting the faces of people and some clothes. It creates an outer world-kind of feeling, bright neon colors glowing in the darkness. If Mark were a little more conscious of his surroundings, he might think it borders on too much.

Donghyuck has their hands interlocked, so none of them gets lost in the crowd and he pulls Mark towards the bar. To Mark's surprise the bartender seems to recognize Donghyuck, throwing a peace sign and a wide triangular smile. His white dyed hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail and there are splatters of neon red paint on his cheek. Tattoos line his arms, like a second skin and, despite his easy atmosphere, Mark is immediately intimidated.

"Hey Yuta." Donghyuck yells over the music.

"Hey sugardoll." Yuta greets back, pushing a pair of beers to another costumer, "Been waiting some time, I actually thought you decided to stop coming. When was the last time? Two weeks ago?"

A customer pushes towards the bar behind Mark and he falls a little against Donghyuck. As if he isn't completely conscious of it, Donghyuck's arm goes around his waist, while he answers: "Yeah there were some complications. Life is crazy, ya know?"

"Tell me about it." The man laughs and busies himself with mixing a bright pink cocktail, "What's up with your boyfriend? Haven't seen him in a while either. What was his name again?"

"We broke up." Donghyuck says, obviously trying to look disinterested.

Feeling the younger's grip tighten a little on his waist, Mark feels his own hands come up to wrap around his neck. Seriously, what the fuck is he even doing? A thumb eases tiny circles into his back and Mark finds that he doesn't really care. Donghyuck is soft, despite all the too sharp edges. If he draws his face a little closer to his neck, he thinks he can smell something that is distinctly Donghyuck. Maybe it's some remaining blood, too. Yeah, there are a couple of splatters on his cheek and... his collarbone. When had he pulled down the zipper of the jacket so far?

"Ah man, that sucks, sorry to hear." Yuta says, pushing the finished cocktail to a costumer. In his wake he winks at the girl for good measure and she gives him a little more tip than would be usual, "That one's cuter anyways. You don't need that sack of shit."

Donghyuck grins, "How do you know I'm not the sack of shit in this situation?"

"I know you, Donghyuck. You're a crazy bastard, but you're not an asshole." Huffing, Yuta wipes the counter to busy his hands, "Besides, you know I never liked the guy. The way he looked at you... ugh, don't make me recall it, so gross."

"Yeah, let's stop talking about my dead ex, okay?"

"That's the spirit. From now on, he's dead to us." Yuta shrugs, grinning over his joke and Mark finds himself snort, despite the world.

This should not be funny. But damnit, if it isn't the most hilarious shit Yuta could have said right then.

Donghyuck leans a bit over the counter, "Would you treat us to a sympathy shot?"

Laughing in disbelief, Yuta shakes his head, but pulls out two shot-glasses anyways. Meanwhile, Mark finds himself tug a little at the hair in Donghyuck's neck. It's soft and a little clumped. Maybe, with sweat, maybe with blood. Doesn't really matter, not when Donghyuck leans into the touch like he does. His tongue darts out to wet his dried lips, making them glisten under the lights of the club. Mark hadn't noticed how plush they were before, but he doesn't really know what to do with that information either.

When Yuta pushes two glasses with clear liquid in their direction, Donghyuck parts just enough to take one in his hand. He lifts it for a cheer and Mark grabs his own to clink them together.

"To the revenge on the big bad world."

"To the only decision that is our own." Mark responds.

Donghyuck's grin widens at that and they down their drinks in sync. It burns harshly against the back of Mark's throat and he grimaces. Donghyuck barely blinks, but he gives a satisfied gasp, before he slams his glass back down on the counter.

"Let's go dance." He proposes, pulling at Mark's sleeve.

Stumbling a little, Mark tries to follow him, "I can't dance."

"Look around", Donghyuck's hand flies up to point at the countless people around them, some of which look barely conscious, "Do you think anyone cares?"

That's enough to shut him up, but not quite enough to get him to start moving. Donghyuck doesn't seem to care much, as he immediately falls into an obviously developed routine, swaying and rolling to the music. Whenever he lifts his arms, the jacket bunches up under his chin and hides his collarbone again. Mark wishes he would have unzipped it a little more and startles himself with that thought.

When it becomes clear that Mark is incapable of moving himself in any artistic way whatsoever, Donghyuck's hands take a hold of his hips. He splutters, but does his best to follow Donghyuck's insistent pressure, until he finds into the music's rhythm. It's awkward. He doesn't know what to do with his hands and the crowd around them is pressing them closer together. With a lack for a better solution Mark's arms end up around Donghyuck's neck again, but he deliberately turns his head away. Donghyuck's nose bumps against his jaw anyways.

The hands on his hips tighten.

"There's still something left on my list." Donghyuck yells. Even with his mouth so close to Mark's ear, it's hard to hear him.

Of course, he knows exactly what Donghyuck is talking about, "I know. You spotted someone already?"

"I did." Mark looks at Donghyuck, trying to find out whether he is scanning the crowd with those big eyes of his. However, Donghyuck is still looking at him, "Do you think I'm beautiful, Mark?"

There are a million and one thoughts that tumble over each other in Mark's mind, all pleading to be let out between his lips. None of them make it. He watches Donghyuck's features, greedily sucks in the roundness of his eyes, the thick set of his brows and the plush fullness of his lips. Mark is not blind and he would have known what the answer was to this question just a second later. But he also knows the weight of whatever he decides to say next.

They have stopped moving. Donghyuck is looking at him, almost pleading and for the first time so insecure, he looks like he might break. Mark's fingers find the thin hairs in his nape again and he tugs ever so slightly.

"Yes."

Donghyuck's breath tastes a little like the alcohol he drank, as it strokes Mark's awaiting mouth. He is thankful it only takes Donghyuck one little shove to connect their mouths, because Mark knows he would have never found the courage to do it himself. It's a sweet kiss. Something like a kindergartner smooch, but Mark feels his heart pound nonetheless. The last time he had kissed someone was Jeno. His girlfriend hadn't ever gone beyond a cheek peck and he hadn't felt the need to change that. But with Donghyuck?

With Donghyuck he feels like he needs his air to breathe. As if something addicting, a poison maybe, has covered his lips and made his mind delirious. He pushes in for more this time and Donghyuck complies. In the middle of the crowd, the middle of chaos, the middle of the big bad world, they create a moment of peace for themselves.

A moment, where finally, someone comes to cherish them.

\--*--

It's all a bit blurry, Mark probably wouldn't be able to recall how they got here, if he tried. Here, being the club's cramped bathroom, with his butt propped on the sink, Donghyuck's hips between his legs and greedy lips ravaging his neck. Everything is so hot, Mark feels like his skin could melt off. His fingers had undone the zipper of Donghyuck's ridiculous jacket an eternity ago and it's both nerve wrecking and addicting to let his fingers discover the expanse of sweaty skin there.

Donghyuck's own fingers are cold, as always, where they have crept beneath Mark's shirt. It only adds to the sensation though, that way he can feel them even more than he usually might. When Donghyuck's lips find his again, he kisses back with all the vigor he has, tongue wrestling Mark's just for the fun of it.

It's only when Mark feels a hand slip between his legs, right over his crotch that he pulls away. Between heavy pants he manages to gasp out: "W-wait. Gimme-... Gimme some time."

"You can have all the time you need", Donghyuck mutters, softly kissing Mark's neck, "Time, yeah. Wait a second– Time. Mark, what's the time?"

Frowning in confusion and still very much breathless, Mark lifts his wrist and stares at his wrist watch, "Uh... 5.23 a.m., why?"

"Fuck!" Donghyuck curses, suddenly scrambling to pull his jacket closed again. With a last lingering peck to Mark's lips, he pulls the boy off the sink, "We're late, dude."

"Late for what?"

Snorting, Donghyuck pushes out of the bathroom, "Are you serious?"

They slip past the sweaty bodies. Donghyuck doesn't say goodbye to Yuta and Mark can only assume it's because of the stress that is setting his shoulders right now. Outside, the fresh air is like a punch to the face. Mark had gotten so suffocated and drunk on the stuffed club-air, he almost forgot what it was like to properly _breathe._

He doesn't get a chance to savor it though, as Donghyuck yanks him forward and sets into a hard sprint. When Mark finds the pinkish hue to the sky, he suddenly understands. The sunrise. They are late for the sunrise. He picks up his pace then, trying his best to keep up with Donghyuck, instead of slowing him down. Some people are beginning to fill the streets again, early risers going to their early jobs or students who have an extra long way to school. Donghyuck doesn´t even seem to see them, eyes fixed on their destination.

When the sound of rushing water comes closer, Mark feels his heart in his throat. It´s an emotion he can´t name. Not fear, not excitement, not exhaustion. His heart feels so detached from him by now, he can´t even read it anymore.

Their shoes sound dull against the asphalt of the Mapo bridge. It´s slim, slimmer than most others in the city and completely deserted. The water beneath them glistens with the orange of the first sunrays. Donghyuck is panting, face pale and eyes half-closed. It looks like he might throw up for a moment, but he catches himself. Mark helps to hold him up, mouth agape with his own wild panting. He looks beyond the railing, where the water is still pitch black. From so far up he can´t even see the surface.

"If we jump over here, we´ll hit the stone of the bridge." Donghyuck proposes, pulling Mark a little further down the bridge, "Besides, it´s easier to get up the railing here, I´m not that athletic."

Silently, Mark watches Donghyuck climb over the railing, feet steady on the slim strip on the other side. He mirrors his actions, palms digging into the metal, with how hard he holds on. They stare into the darkness together. Silent. Thinking.

Then, Mark finds he doesn´t think anything anymore. He is here. Donghyuck is here. This strange boy, with his beaten body and the blood of his ex-boyfriend drying on his neck is here with him and that´s all that matters. If they jump now, Mark would be fine. Donghyuck would be fine. Everything would be fine.

He leans forward a little.

"Strange." Donghyuck hums.

Mark looks up surprised.

"Somehow…" He sighs, tilting his head and furrowing his brows with obvious confusion, "Somehow, I don´t… really feel like it… anymore."

"What?"

"I don´t know, after tonight…", Donghyuck pauses, looking up at the rising sun, "It used to feel like the only way I have left. But… it doesn´t anymore. Don´t get me wrong, I still wouldn´t mind forgetting about 90 per cent of my lifetime, but, this is just so… final, you know?"

Maybe, now Mark is the fool for thinking that there is little wrong with that, "I mean, I guess."

"I like how you say that all the time." Donghyuck laughs, "I liked that you didn´t care about the blood on my shirt, about the things I wanted to do, about the things I believed in. Because, those are things that people always care about so much, when really they shouldn´t matter to them. You just went with all the bullshit, some random kid wanted to do with you and I think that´s pretty cool." The water rushes quietly, "But I also think you deserve to care about yourself, Mark.

"I think it´s the only right thing to do."

Donghyuck huffs, pulling himself back on the other side of the railing, "We wanted revenge on the big bad world. We wanted to show everyone who treated us like dirt, how they wronged us, but we haven´t even considered the real triumph."

Mark is frozen in place, he turns to look at Donghyuck, but his feet won´t comply and take him to the other side, "And what would that be?"

"Living." The sun comes up and the shadows it creates on Donghyuck´s face almost look painted. For the first time, he looks like there is something behind his eyes that breathes and feels and thinks, "Our revenge isn´t in death, Mark. It´s in living however we fucking want to and leaving those behind that don´t let us do just that. That´s freedom."

Slowly, Mark´s legs lift him over the railing, back to Donghyuck´s side, "So, what now, then?"

The younger shrugs, eyes turned to the water, "Let´s just survive for now, we´ll see what comes after."

They part then, without another word, because there aren´t any words designed for a goodbye like theirs. There are no phrases they can use, with the strange relationship they have built. Mark doesn´t even know if he will ever see Donghyuck again, even though he realizes he might be the person he had been closest to, in his whole life. As he watches Donghyuck´s form grow smaller in the distance, he wants to tell himself it doesn´t matter.

But for once he can´t. Because, it does.

When he comes back to the laundry shop, he finds his clothes are still there. Not just that, but someone had taken the time to get them out of the dryer and fold them into his basket. Mark smiles to himself and he finds he is glad.

After all; how awkward would it be, if this person folded the clothes of a dead guy?

**Author's Note:**

> [Credit theme song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w9_-SCFNeag)
> 
> Follow my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/putputpotato) for writing updates, extra infos, fic recs and much more! <3 
> 
> Thank you for reading, always. I love you so much <3 
> 
> Drop some thoughts or love in the comments if you want, I´d greatly appreciate it! <3 
> 
> Till next time sweethearts (´｡• ω •｡`)


End file.
